Editing texts with signs of Pressured Speech
Pressured speech is a term used in psychiatry to describe one symptom of a manic episode of Bipolar Disorder, Autism, ADHD, BPD and more. It’s when a person speaks with a sense of urgency, without pauses and often incoherently. Many people have witnessed or experienced this, but don’t know there is a clinical term for it. And what makes it trickier to identify is that this phenomenon is not exclusive to people diagnosed with one of those psychiatric conditions. Anyone under a concoction of stressful stimuli may exhibit this symptom, and that isn’t necessarily an indication they are bipolar or autistic. Being in the limelight, for instance, can provoke tone alteration in most people, often resembling pressured speech. Knowing, however, that this may be a medical condition could positively inform our reactions to it.
As an editor, I often see signs of pressured speech in people’s writing. There is a certain level of desperation to get a point across, but the point has too many layers, and concepts are stacked on top of each other without clear connections between them. Classic signs are long sentences with these immense concepts listed one after the other. Paragraphs are endless, and it’s unclear where the story started and where it’s going. All writers are susceptible to these, but the symptom that stands out as psychiatrically manic is the urgency emanating from the piece – as if the text being written, and read, must single-handedly change major aspects of the world significantly.
The urgency behind needing something to change, or for something to be stopped, is naturally expressed through speech, and, of course, through writing as a form of speech. How can we distinguish between a writing style and a clinical symptom? This distinction is useful for those whose job is to assist a writer in making their text more effective – editors. But it’s also useful to anyone who wants to enhance their communication skills.
If the reader can’t understand what is being said in a text, it’s not effective writing. As such, the first concern is to understand your audience. People with autism notoriously struggle with that, nevertheless, all people must learn this, one way or another, in order to communicate. In manic episodes, communication is uniquely impaired, in large part due to an inability to read an audience, but also due to “delusions of grandeur”, where the audience is seen as inadequate.
There is a fine line between believing in your yourself or in your work as a writer making a real difference in the world, and a pathological sense of self-worth. There is a fine line between knowing you can introduce your reader to new ideas, and believing your reader is ignorant. Regardless of where this line is drawn, responding with reassurance and kindness is crucial when dealing with people struggling with a psychiatric condition. This doesn’t mean indulging or ignoring issues. It means trying to grasp the message they are trying to convey, and helping them make an effective structure to present this message.
In the process of structuring thoughts, an editor has the opportunity to help someone who’s having a manic episode to understand and take ownership of their feelings, before disseminating them publicly. It’s a feeling, after all, which provokes the urgent need to write about a subject. But, sometimes the feeling is so strong that we rush and cut corners in the narrative, rendering the story unintelligible. And when that happens, a text becomes ineffective, causing frustration or a snowball of negative emotions.
The first step to assure an effective narrative structure is a beginning, middle and end.
The beginning:
Where are we? What are we doing? Why should the reader care?
At the beginning, we situate the audience on the what. What is happening in the world right now that warrants the writing and reading of hundreds of words? Perhaps there is war in West Asia, and Islamophobia is rampant in mainstream news coverage. Some pop star just started dating someone who cheated on his previous girlfriend. A rare species of bird was observed in an unusual habitat. The article could be about anything, so it’s best to say the thing right off the bat.
To begin an article introducing a ‘what’ that is too vague or broad as a concept is ineffective because the reader won’t know the answer to “what about it?” and won’t know why they should care about what they are about to read. Online readers have short attention spans. They need to be reminded of why they should care often. In that sense, to write about life, humanity, the world, etc. in a blog post is to write about nothing, really. What about life, humanity or the world you will focus on, in this particular instance, is what should be in the beginning.
The middle:
Don’t tell people what is or isn’t. Show the evidence, and let it speak for itself.
The middle is where we list the arguments and evidence for the what and why we should care. It’s also an opportunity to define terms, and sometimes broad concepts may be employed with the ultimate goal of serving as a supporting argument for the main point of the piece. For example, define the term Islamophobia and show evidence of it in the media, with sources. Show and analyze the evidence about the pop star’s love live. Describe the habitat the rare bird was found in, explain what its presence there means, and according to whom. In other words, the middle is where you show the receipts, even if they are all based on your own personal experience.
Finding or elaborating evidence for the main point we are trying to make is the major challenge of non-fiction writing. Seconded by the challenge of making a thread connecting all of this evidence towards a final purpose. A non-fictional narrative is essentially this – a coherent thread of evidence that leads to the affirmation of a statement.
The end:
What now?
Suppose the sustaining evidence is all laid out and the point has been made. At the conclusion, the writer may present to the audience what they expect the reader to do with all the information they just read. All of what an audience gets out of reading a text can’t be predicted, but an accessible sense of purpose from the writer may still be shared. Because if we can’t verbalize what the reason for writing it was, what was the reason for reading it?
Sometimes, in the process of creating structure, we realize we are making assumptions we have no evidence for. Or we are making assumptions about our audience, such as expecting them to instinctively relate to something they don’t necessarily relate to. Some things don’t go without saying, which is why we feel the urge to speak and write in the first place.
Editors are not psychiatrists or therapists. As with anyone, we can only do what’s within our reach. And valuing neurodivergent voices is within reach. If we don’t put effort into perceiving this value, we are contributing to the systematic silencing of a major part of the population. One in eight people are said to struggle with an impairing psychological condition, pressured speech not only being a relatable symptom of it, but also a symptom of mood disorders with high risk of suicide. It’s possible to be honest and constructive with feedback without alienating neurodivergent people further. In doing so, new and unexpected insights in how to improve communication can become a valuable resource to all people who aim to communicate through writing.
Mirna Wabi-Sabi
Mirna is a Brazilian writer, site editor at Gods and Radicals and founder of Plataforma9. She is the author of the book Anarcho-transcreation, Pretend This Is a Cellphone, and producer of several other titles under the P9 press.